


out of kindness

by guttersvoice



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: M/M, Other tags to be added, Post-Canon, Rating May Change, stars with skin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-02 15:52:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6572344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guttersvoice/pseuds/guttersvoice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>vector tries to avoid his past, and ends up tangled with someone he never expected or particularly wanted to see again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [stars with skin](http://guttersvoice.tumblr.com/tagged/stars%20with%20skin/chrono) is a post-canon au where astral rewrites the numeron code a little differently

When they enter the room to stand at the front and introduce themself, Kotori screams a little. It's hilarious, and Vector stubs his toe kicking his legs and laughing.

\--

Three months before that, Vector found himself thrust into Shingetsu's body once more, unable to Bariarphose or access any of his former power. There are advantages to it, but not enough. He had his fill of being weak and fleshy and landlocked already, and the idea that the Astral Emissary would do this has him grinding his teeth.

He's determined not to show his fury. He knows full well that Astral has done this out of kindness, and that only makes it worse. If this were an intentional punishment, it would be far more bearable. But this has been done out of the assumption that he would rather live on as human than die a Barian.

The worst part is that, of course, as usual, Astral was right.

Of course he'd want to live; of course he'd hoped, that moment he let go, that he could be reborn again and meet him again.

But goddamn if he wasn't bitter that Astral was the one who did that for him, out of kindness.

\--

When he showed up at school, not really sure where else to go, Yuuma threw himself at him, tackling him in a full-body hug.

"Shingetsu!" he shouted, and Shingetsu clutched onto that human warmth as long as he could. Yuuma told him that he'd missed him, that he wasn't sure, but he was so glad Shingetsu was back too.

He almost choked up. Certainly he wanted to cling to the boy and tell him so many dangerous things, and cry, perhaps. But the word 'too' permeated the wall of reuniting emotions soon enough. The others were stood there, in school uniform much like Shingetsu's own.

Instead of being honest, Vector laughed, mocked them all for getting trapped in human shape just like him.

\--

Nasch - Shark - no, Vector corrected himself again. He was going by Ryouga now. Vector would be damned if he'd call him anything but Nasch, though. His other names didn't sound anywhere near as good laced with disgust.

Anyway.

Nasch suggested that the former Barian Emperors take up residence in his human family's home. The others all immediately agreed that it would be best if they stuck together, at least while they adjusted.

Even if they hadn't, Vector could never take up an offer like that from Nasch. Whether or not he was comfortable accepting charity from the guy, the idea of living with him was terrifying.

Aloud, he called it 'a bad idea', and laughed. It wasn't that he was afraid of Nasch, so to speak - just of the idea of trying to reforge relationships with the other Barians. Not that there had been much between any of them before, but he knew he was lucky enough to have anything positive between himself and Yuuma. The others he'd already written up as a lost cause. Easier that way, than to build up hope and see it dashed.

Yuuma would be disappointed, he realised later, stood in Shingetsu's little apartment. Yuuma would have wanted him to push himself and try and do his best.

"Kattobingu," he said to himself.

It still only ever sounded like nonsense to him.

\--

Vector didn't see anyone else he knew for two weeks.

\-- 

He was buying groceries when he broke his streak of avoiding anyone he knew. He'd found that perhaps not every last shred of his power had gone - he'd been able to sense and avoid the other Barians up until that point. Or maybe he was just imagining it, and coincidence had kept him secluded.

Sensing and recognising humans was an entirely different matter, so the small, soft hand on his shoulder startled the shit out of him.

Vector told Kotori that exactly, perhaps a little too loud for a small, family-owned store. She leapt half a foot away and flushed pink, hiding her face behind her fingers.

He didn't apologise, staring her down until she either left - preferable - or spoke to him, which was her chosen action.

She followed him through the shop and halfway home, talking at length about school, and how he should really attend more, because if he missed too many classes he wouldn't be able to pass to the next grade. He managed grunts and one-word responses, and eventually she stopped and turned to go a different way.

"You know," she added, before they parted. "Yuuma really misses you." 

\-- 

He pushes her words out of his mind as well as he can, and does a terrible job. All he can think about for half of the rest of his walk home is that smile, and the way it felt when their hands touched.

Maybe it's because he had hands on the mind, or maybe it's just because he was distracted by a feeling he was determined to call smug victory - Yuuma missed him, which means he'd managed to dig his claws into the boy's heart one way or the other - but when an arm grabbed him from the bundle of what he'd thought was garbage he didn't immediately pull away and scoff, instead actually turning to look.

The fingers wrapped tight around his wrist were long and elegant and somehow familiar, though he couldn't place how. What he'd assumed was trash as he'd walked past was mostly a blanket of some sort thrown over most of the owner of the hand. Or a cloak, perhaps, he amended, seeing the way it hung off their shoulders and over their head. Their hair was tangled, colour unknowable under dirt, but longer than he'd seen any human's hair grow.

What froze him in place was the eyes. One blue, one red, piercing him with the same familiarity that felt like choking and falling and unadulterated fear. He hadn't seen them in the form they'd taken that most resembled this very human body they inhabited now, but he knew them. They'd ridden alongside his own soul for a while, how could he not know them? It was their power he'd felt more than anyone's; more than Zexal's.

They licked dry, cracked lips with a startlingly red tongue before speaking in a voice so clear it rang to his bones.

"Vector," said Don Thousand, grip tightening on their once-subordinate's wrist.  


	2. Chapter 2

Vector wondered if it was as funny to others to see him reduced to what he is now as it was to him to see his god like this. At the very least, he told himself, he wasn’t as pathetic as the body he was, for some reason, carting home along with his groceries.

Don Thousand was light, barely as heavy as the plastic bags full of food they were counterbalanced with, and, it seemed, barely conscious. Just alive and awake enough to curl clinging, desperate fingers into the fabric of Vector’s jacket, and, every now and then, to say his name again, mumbling it beside his ear with more clarity than someone this broken should have been able to manage. Every time, it echoed through him and left him breathless and - not frightened, he reminded himself, but on high alert. Adrenaline bursts didn't always entail fear, just survival instincts. Still, having to stop and catch his breath and remind himself that he was free and alive and disgustingly human every minute or so meant it took far longer than it should have to get back to Shingetsu's apartment. The carrier bag full of food rubbed a red line into his palm.

He refused to be gentle with the ex-god. Dropped them on the doorstep so he could find his keys and open the door, and half-dragged them inside by the arm to close it. He left them on the floor to put his shopping away, and to start running the taps on his western-style bathtub. No soap or bubbles, just hot water for now, he decided. Pulling the blanket-cloak off the curled-up form of his god, it was clear that was the right decision. It was impossible to tell how long Don Thousand had been trapped in this form, in this world, but they were filthy and too-thin. Looked so human and helpless and naked, with bruises on their chest and scraped knees and dirt marring what might once have been a flawless body.

Vector's scars had all been gone when he woke to find the world rewritten. He'd been fresh and perfect and furious.

He looked down at the being he'd once called his god, and all the wounds that would turn to scars, inside and out.

Disgusting, Vector’s mind provided, and he nodded to himself. He probably shouldn’t have been happy about this, but the smile that curled across his mouth as he carried them through to the bathroom was impossible to hold back. A rebellious little part of him suggested that he just dump them unceremoniously into the steaming water, but the balance of power had already tilted in his favour for once, and he wasn’t about to risk that for a laugh. Being in charge of the situation was fun enough.

Even with Vector holding them upright, Don Thousand's legs were unsteady on the linoleum floor, and they turned to look at him with confusion in their mismatched eyes.

Don Thousand was taller than him, but smiling up at them, Vector felt bigger, somehow.

“Get in the water,” he instructed, loving the way his heart thudded as he gave this once all-powerful being an order. A rush not unlike the feeling he'd refused to call fear. 

They blinked once, slowly, comprehension slow, then nodded.

It took them several minutes of quiet hissing and gasps at the heat of the water, but eventually they were mostly submerged in hot water, and as their eyes fluttered closed, they smiled. A tiny curve of lips, but enough to be called a smile. He'd made the right decision, and felt, perhaps, a little proud of this achievement.

“I’m going to leave you alone for a bit,” Vector informed the god. Apparently his voice startled them a little; the water splashed as their eyes opened wide again to stare at him, almost bewildered. “Don’t drown while I’m out of the room.”

Another mute nod, this time accompanied with a downward flick of the eyes, though what that could mean was anyone's guess. He wondered if they had forgotten how to speak, or if it would come back to them in time, and decided to leave the door open, so he would be able to hear any trouble.

First, a cup of water. He returned to the bathroom faster than the Don had expected, or at least, it seemed that way from the splash as they sat up straight to look at him.

Their grip was a little shaky, but Vector wasn't about to tip the cup for them. This was a favour to gain a modicum of power over them, not babysitting, and sure enough, with two hands, they were steady enough to do it themself. They took a tentative sip, and then downed it, holding the glass out for more, and for a moment, in the new spark in their eyes and the angle of their wrist, Vector saw a little of that demanding regality in them again. It was almost a relief, as much as he enjoyed being the one in control. This was still the lost god of Barian, after all. He refilled the glass using the bathtub tap, and their eyes narrowed with comprehension. None of their intelligence had been lost, then, just hidden under layers of dirt like the rest of them. Satisfied that they could hydrate without any more of his help, he left them alone again, heading into the tiny kitchen to decide on some food, and then to dig through his bedroom cupboards for a hairbrush.

If, as he suspected, they hadn’t eaten anything - or at least, anything substantial - since taking this form, plain white rice would be best. Keep that first taste of food simple, let them learn slowly about the few good things that came with a physical, human body. And the starches would be easy for their body to digest, though he wasn't sure where that knowledge came from. No, he knew - hadn't Shingetsu Rei's science classes covered nutrition? He hadn't listened back then, assuming he would never need information so irrelevant to his stone-and-light body, but at least some part of him had retained the information. Convenient now, he supposed.

Vector couldn’t know how his decision to make such a simple food reflected a moment from so long ago. Perhaps if he had, he would have chosen something else, done things differently. Perhaps he would have nudged events towards more similarities.

But he didn’t know, and so he just put his rice cooker on and returned to Don Thousand, and the water that was now mostly grey with filth from their body and hair.

“Get out,” he said, and they frowned at him, clearly unwilling. He waggled the hairbrush at them, not letting them go against his demands in his own damn house. “I need to empty and refill it with clean water, so get out and I can start untangling your hair while it fills again.”

That seemed to be favourable enough to them; Don Thousand stood, water and dirt sluicing off them, and stepped out of the bath, unfazed by their own nudity.

A little fazed by the cold air, though, so more than willing to let Vector wrap them in a towel and sit them down on the bathroom floor.

The last couple of feet of their hair was unsalvageable. It had matted and tangled and looking at it, it was clear that trying to drag a hairbrush through it was pointless, and would only result in pain. There was no argument about simply cutting it off; they seemed as pleased to see it separate from the rest of them as Vector was to throw it out of the window without a care for the effects it might have on his neighbours. There was a low thump as it hit the ground, and one of those wild giggles he hadn't felt in too long now bubbled up out of his chest, brief and fleeting, but a strange, pleasant reminder that he could still be what he once was.

The remainder of Don Thousand’s hair fell just about to their thighs, and Vector had brushed the tangles out of about half of it when a beeping from the other room pulled him away.

“Wait here,” he instructed. “Turn the bath off if it gets full while I’m gone.”

He returned with two plain white onigiri, figuring that cutlery and similar implements could wait.

The Don was stood, towel discarded, about to climb back into the tub. Vector rolled his eyes.

“Sit down.”

They did, and then stared at the food Vector handed them with nothing resembling comprehension in their eyes. He rolled his own, again. Hopefully they would pick things up quickly. He wasn’t about to spend the rest of his forced-human days teaching an ex-god how to live in this place.

For now, though - he bit into his own snack, chewed theatrically, and swallowed, eyes fixed on Don Thousand.

Tentative and slow, suspicion alight in their eyes, they imitated him.

And everything about them lit up.

It wasn’t a smile, so to speak. But there was something refreshed about the way they held themself; the clear, understanding gaze and relaxed shoulders. The slow, calm rise and fall of their chest.

“So, this is how it is to feel alive,” they murmured, and their voice was familiar and strange, echoing off the walls of the tiny bathroom but not rattling Vector’s bones as it had earlier. A real voice, produced with vibrations of flesh and air. There was something about it that shook Vector, but perhaps just the knowledge that this was a human now and not a god. They continued, mouth half-full of food, no need for manners in this space that was just for them and for this new sensation. “Unbelievable. The situation has become very interesting, Vector.”

Vector opened his mouth to respond. And then, something he hadn’t ever expected.

Don Thousand smiled, broad and honest and genuine, and, as they continued to devour the plain, simple rice they’d been given, tears began to spill down their face.

The last time Vector had seen someone cry, the situation had been very different, although, he supposed, he had been feeding Don Thousand that time, too. He’d laugh, if he wasn’t frozen in place, wary and watching a god sob into their now empty hands. The fear he perhaps should have been feeling the entire time finally hit him, constricting his breathing as much as that throne had constricted every part of him. He’d forgotten, somehow, to be afraid of them. Wasn’t he living proof not to let your guard down around someone just because they seemed small, or helpless, or - he hesitated to even think it, but lying to himself had so often had negative outcomes, and honesty might push unwanted feelings away - attractive? Bringing this thing into his home had been a stupid, stupid idea.

Perhaps a distrusting reaction to someone showing this much obvious weakness wasn’t exactly a healthy instinct, but it would have served Vector’s so-called friends well, once.

There was no punchline today, though. Don Thousand’s quiet sobs grew slower and quieter, and ran out entirely, and they uncurled, pulling themself to their feet. With Vector still sat on the floor, they towered over him. There it was. That reminiscent feeling; that familiarity. An echo of somewhere greater, reduced to a small, white-tiled bathroom. This was his god.

They didn’t meet his eyes. Filled their glass of water again, and bit their lip, and took slow, shaky breaths.

“Thank you,” they said, after a while. “I will finish cleaning myself, and, if you are willing to feed me some more, I will eat, and then I will leave.”

Vector stared.

“As much as I would enjoy having you serve me as you once did, it was a relationship that fostered naught but betrayal, and this body’s chemicals induce feelings of shame. Guilt, perhaps. Marginal, but still.”

Ok, that was too much. Laughter tore out of Vector, crumpling him in near-hysteric glee. That gratitude and near-apology, coming from the Don, were too absurd for him to handle. Almost as funny as some of the expressions he’d forced onto Nasch’s face before. He looked up, and this naked, confused human with too much hair looked down, and he found himself laughing so hard tears coursed down his cheeks just as they had the Don’s only moments ago.

“Boy, that Emissary really did a number on you, huh?” he choked out between giggles, wobbling his way to his feet. Still far shorter than Don Thousand, but with less of their crotch in his direct line of sight. “Get back in the tub, I’ll wash your hair, and we can figure out what’s gonna happen to you after. You’re malnourished and unused to this body, I’m not fuckin’ afraid of you like this. Besides,” he added, grinning toothily at what had once been his god. “Embarrassing as it is, you owe me for saving your life, now. I won't let you run out on that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


End file.
